


Safe in my Arms

by Jarakrisafis



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M, Sticky Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-13
Updated: 2011-12-13
Packaged: 2017-10-27 07:37:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/293287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jarakrisafis/pseuds/Jarakrisafis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vortex just wants to spend some time with his lover</p>
            </blockquote>





	Safe in my Arms

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the lj transformers kinkmeme. Prompt was erotomania (a delusion where someone believes another person is in love with them)

I wince as reports flash across my CPU, mostly warnings about the pain and damage from a shot that had glanced across my side as I had been repairing one of the minibots. I hadn’t managed to delete them before I had keeled over into stasis. Running an internal diagnostic I frown. Strange. My wounds have been patched but I can find no log of the repair work, Ratchet always leaves a note so that a mech knows what parts not to stress. Well, there would only be one way to tell, and that would be to ask him, which I can’t do if he doesn’t know I am back online. Booting up my optics I stiffen as the ceiling I am staring up at is neither the Ark nor Protectobot HQ.

My first thought is that I have been captured, but the construction is far too flimsy, a thin corrugated roof over what might as well be cardboard walls. Human. The brush of another electromagnetic field draws my attention to the fact that I am not alone. Why I hadn’t thought to run a scan to check when I first onlined I don’t know. Twisting my helm to regard the other mech I feel the energon in my lines turn to ice. Sending out a distress beacon I swear internally as it bounces back, every comm. frequency merely hissing static from some kind of interference.

“Shhhhh. Easy. I’ve got you. You’re safe with me.” I still as the other mech stops my undignified shuffle across the warehouse floor by simply laying himself down on top of me, wrapping his arms around my frame, one hand stroking my helm in a soothing motion. Or it would have been soothing if the other mech wasn’t who he was. “How are you feeling? That was a nasty shot but I patched it up. We can stay here while you heal, ok?” Scarlet optics peer down at me as the rotary mech slowly sits up, gently running a hand over the welds on my side.

I have to wait for my vents to cycle down from their rapid attempts to draw cool air into my chassis and my spark is pulsing far too fast in its containment field. Shock and fear, my automated scans tell me before I shut them down, I am quite aware of how I’m feeling, although, my scan didn’t tell me about my confusion. I don’t expect this to work, but it is worth a try: “I’m fine thank you.” I keep my voice as calm as his, only a faint waver escaping to betray my anxiety, addressing him as if we are well acquainted as that is how he spoke to me. Trying to wriggle my hips out from underneath him I continue. “And, ah, I should probably be getting back.” I expect him to stop me from leaving and am braced for the wicked claws to curl underneath my plating, but all he does is spread one of his hands on my chest, letting his weight keep me in place.

His other hand traces across my mask as he tilts his helm, confusion clear in his tone. “Why would you want to go? I’m here for you.” That was exactly what I was worried about. He could do whatever he wanted and I wouldn’t be able to stop him. I could take a guess at where his neural lines are, but if he’s like Blades then they are hidden deep under his armour. He’d work out what I was trying to do. And then, then... I delete the thought before it can go any further, I don’t need to imagine what he can do. I’ve seen what he is capable of, have watched him try to rip mechs apart with his bare claws, all with a savage grin on his faceplates. I’ve had to put those mechs back together.

And he had been watching me. At first I thought I had been imagining things, it had started out as a minor inconvenience, the feeling of optics watching me as I worked on triage during battles, it had taken me a while to work out who it was, but since then I had caught him staring at me from across battlefields during lulls in fighting as both sides pulled back to reassess their attacks. But eventually even Groove noticed, and he isn’t the most observant member of Defensor. He’d called it creepy. I called it frightening,

And then he’d tried to kidnap me. Or at least that’s what everybody thought. I never told them that he hadn’t tried to catch me, the hand pushing me out of the way of cannon fire, not gripping, not pulling. He’d been chased away by a vengeful Hot Spot, and I had never corrected the assumptions that the other mechs came too.

“I know you need to keep up the act, and that you need to get back eventually, but there’s no rush, we can have some time to ourselves.” I blink, resetting both my audios and optics before replaying that sentence. Clearly he has been at the high-grade, or possibly, given how little energon the ‘cons seemed to have; he’s been taking coding stimulants. There is no other explanation that I can find that makes any sort of sense. I don’t even have a clue what act I am meant to be keeping up, probably it is all in his processor, especially if he has been abusing code stims.

“I know you’ve been wanting this as well, but it’s so hard to get away, so we might as well make the most of it. Yes?” I yelp, the burst of static escaping my vocaliser as his hands start to wander, gently teasing at my transformation seams. I most definitely do not want this. He is even further out of it than I’d thought. Trying to wriggle away again I freeze as soon as he all but purrs at the contact of our frames as I move. “See, I knew you needed some time away from everything.” And now he thinks I am encouraging him. Slag. That was not what I had intended.

He was too heavy for me too flip off and make a break for it, not to mention that as a rotary I would have a hard time losing him. The static laced comm. line made calling for help impossible, and I couldn’t even see the device he was using to create the interference so that I could disable it and call for help. And I didn’t dare fight him, he’d tear me to shreds, I could just imagine the claws currently scraping lightly across my armour, not even hard enough to mar my paint, digging in, rending my plating into pieces, energon and coolant spreading across the floor to pool beneath me. No. I need to remain calm. Panic will do nothing.

I am trapped. But he doesn’t seem to want to hurt me. At least, not now. Half of my processor is telling me to fight, the other half to submit. Logic... logic is winning, telling me to stay still. But how? I don’t want him to touch me; don’t want him anywhere near me. I shift as his claws brush across a seam in my armour, sensors flaring, sending a rush of heat through my systems. “Vortex?” I doubt he will listen to reason, but it won’t hurt to try, besides, he’s defied everything I’ve thought he would do so far. “I’m still healing; this might not be the best plan.”

“I know Aid, I know, I’ll be gentle.” I hiss. He has no right to shorten my designation; he isn’t a friend or a lover, no matter what he seems to think at the moment. “Shhhhhh.” I wince as his fingers hook under my mask, ignoring me as I try to pry his hand away. A foolish endeavour with his strength being so much more, but I don’t want him to see me. I rarely take it off even amongst my own gestalt, not with how my every emotion is laid bare for any mech to read when I don’t have it on. I turn my helm aside as he carefully unlatches it, lifting it free of my face and placing it to one side. “Now’s not a time to be shy Aid.” I wince as he turns my helm back, his thumb tracing around my mouth before he leans in to gently place a kiss on my lips, his own mask lying abandoned next to mine.

“Vortex. I’m really not feeling up to this.” I protest as his engine growls, vibrating through my frame, his energy field flaring, curling and meshing with the edges of mine, no matter that I have mine clamped in tight to my frame... which is still responding, my engine purring at the warm chassis above me.

“Relax Aid; just let me look after you.” Not like I really have a choice. I almost say that aloud, but bite it back. I offline my optics, if I could forget that it was Vortex then this would almost be nice. Almost. Except for the little things that remind me who I am with, the sharper angles of his frame where it is bumping into mine, the claws which are still playing over my frame, teasing, gentle, and his energy field is... wrong, a hint of pain/hate/malice lingering like acid as it brushes over my field.

But it is the emotions that he is clearly expressing, not what he is trying to hide that truly make my spark stutter, love/lust/possession. He wants me. But... he could just take, he is bigger, stronger. Why act like I am something that matters to him? “You’re thinking too much Aid, just relax.” His voice whispers beside my helm, his face when I reboot my optics, hovering right above my own.

That he thinks he loves me is more painful than anything he could do. He barely even knows me. Slag, he’s a Decepticon, I’m an Autobot. He can’t love me. He just can’t. I shudder again, fear curling around my spark. What if he doesn’t let me go back? What if he decides to keep me? I pull my medical coding up again, the false veneer of calm I rely upon during surgery damping my whirling emotions, letting me think clearly.

“Open for me love.” I whimper, squirming as his hand strokes over my interface panel. I can’t do this. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. My thoughts, rapidly spiralling into a looping glitch are cut off as he kisses me again, harder than before, a flash of the malice that is seemingly ever present in his energy field flaring up before he catches himself. “Trust me, nobody will find us here, we’re safe.” Not reassuring, not at all. He meant it to be soothing - I think. But it’s not. I don’t want him, couldn’t ever want him. But I know I need time. They’ll be out searching for me, my team; I just need to stay alive.

Frustration seeps into his field, his claws hook around my interface panel, not tugging, not ripping as I expect, but exerting enough pressure that I know he could remove it if he wants to. I retract it before he goes through with his threat, suppressing the shudder that races across my frame as he croons at me, his field modulating back into happier tones. If I can keep him calm he probably won’t hurt me, at least, not until help arrives. If help arrives. They probably don’t even know where I am. How can they help me if they can’t find me? The small part of my processor that occasionally suggests I get combat trained outside of Defensor is clamouring at me. Then I could have stopped him, I wouldn’t be helpless as he plays with me.

“That’s it lover, you’re going to scream for me before I’m through.” He says as he manages to draw a moan from me as he caresses the sensor nodes at the entrance to my valve. My coding is all but humming at me as my frame reacts to the stimulus. And I can’t stop it, can’t stop myself from bucking my hips up into the warm glossa that swirls around my entrance as my hands scrabble for purchase on the smooth concrete floor. My processor is screaming at me to get away, while my frame would rather stay. I shouldn’t like this, but he is warm, his energy field tangling with mine, lust and need bleeding over from him.

I don’t even realise I have let my helm tilt back, optics dulling until his mouth is against my own, the taste of lubricants, my lubricants on his glossa as he tangles it with mine. A soft chuckle escapes him as he pulls back to peer down at me, the look on his face jarring as I realise he is looking at me as my own team does. Affection and love and things that I didn’t even realise he was capable of feeling.

The sound of his interface panel sliding back is loud, even with our internal fans running full tilt and vents trying to suck in cool air. I expect him to take me, not for my spike to be enveloped in the slick warmth of his valve, his delighted croon echoing around the empty warehouse as he rocks his hips. I lift my hips as best I can beneath him, urging him to move. I need... slag it, I need him. My circuits are burning with charge; it is all I can do not to beg. I am already moaning, each slow twist and thrust of his hips jolting me, his valve clamping around my spike.

I yelp as he abruptly clamps himself to me and rolls us over, his legs curling around my back, urging me to move as he keeps his arms wrapped around my shoulders. I snarl; he wants to give me control I’ll happily take it, my processor is pinging me constantly with errors; that I’m overheating, that circuits are overcharged and I need to bleed off the excess. Gone is the slow languid pace he was setting, my efforts bringing forth moans of pleasure and the occasional hiss of pain as our hips meet with sharp clangs. I need this. Frag that he’s a Decepticon. I need it. He doesn’t last long, his valve clamping down around my spike as static charge ripples around his frame, jumping to my chassis in small crackling arcs, pleasure exploding around me as his claws tighten, screeching as they dig furrows into my shoulders.

I reboot to find my helm resting on his lap, his fingers gently caressing me. “You shouldn’t hide behind you’re masks all the time love. You’re beautiful without them.” I snatch my visor out of his hand, clutching it to my chest as I curl away from him, hiding my face. He’s got what he wanted. And what I wanted. I should have been able to resist, shouldn’t have given in. Any of the others wouldn’t have just rolled over and submitted. They’d have fought him till the end, weak, my processor whispers, a weak pacifist who couldn’t even save himself. Some medic I am if I can’t save myself.

“I’ve got to go; Megatron won’t like it if I stay away for too long.” I am glad I am no longer facing him as I am hard pressed to stop my relief from thrumming through my energy field. He lets me go with a sad sounding sigh as he goes to collect his mask, pressing a lingering kiss to my helm before he replaces it. “Shhhhh. Don’t be sad, you know we have to go our separate ways. We’ll find time to be together in the future; even the war can’t keep us apart.” I don’t watch as he leaves, taking the comm. interference with him, a quick comm. burst to my gestalt letting them know where I am as I curl up into a ball. I hope there will never be a next time, that the war does keep us apart. Because the next time I ever want to see him is when I finally go to Primus.


End file.
